


first, you think the worst is a broken heart

by fivesecrets



Series: six degrees of separation [1]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:28:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivesecrets/pseuds/fivesecrets
Summary: "I left first, I know that, but you, this decision---," Julian's voice trails off, anger rendering him incapable of speech, "you don't have to go.""And you're telling me this now, when you've had months?"Or, in which everything Julian feared happens in one night.
Relationships: Julian Brandt/Kai Havertz
Series: six degrees of separation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936024
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31





	first, you think the worst is a broken heart

**Author's Note:**

> • just want to let you know that i won't be writing as frequently anymore - i got accepted into my dream university and i moved there last week! classes start a week on monday, but i'm still busy trying to get to know the area (i moved 117 miles from a village to a massive city so i'm still a little overwhelmed)  
> • so this might be my last series of work, i don't know. it'll also be a tiny fraction of FTLT's length (it's more a collection of angsty drabbles rather than a series)  
> • this does NOT take place in the FTLT universe, and i think you'll all thank me for it

He knows he’s being unfair. Rumours have been flying for months now, the media reporting everything with a meticulous level of scrutiny, and Kai has been very transparent, answering whatever questions Julian might have about the whole thing. The nature of the younger one’s transfer is the complete polar opposite to his own last year, which was finalised and sealed almost before the reporters got wind of it at all; Kai has been laid bare at the mercy of journalists greedy for the tiniest scraps of gossip in two countries. But in spite of how non-secretive the whole thing is, Julian can’t help but be absolutely fucking furious about it.

It doesn’t make sense to him. Why would Kai want to give up his life in Germany for England of all places, where the rain falls horizontally, where fans sneer at the standards of foreign leagues only for their own to be won by almost twenty points, where everyone is so swept up by the whirlwind of hype to acknowledge the efforts of half the players on the field? He could’ve stayed in Germany, moved to Dortmund or even fucking Bayern if it meant staying somewhere to which Julian could reach him after a few hours on the autobahn, could’ve stayed and they could’ve hung out after matches like they always did.

Alcohol flowed too freely on those nights, only now Julian wonders if he hadn’t taken one of those shots, had kept enough sense of himself to stop his words from slurring into an incoherent mess, he might have murmured something to keep Kai from going.

If there had been anything that would’ve worked, he would have done it in a heartbeat. Consequences could come later, he’d be able to prevent the guilt at controlling the younger man’s career from seeping through his veins until he was out of Kai’s sight, but now, he doesn’t even get to have that inner battle. 

Maybe the worst thing of all is that they haven’t seen each other in so long, phone calls always ending a fraction too early for Julian to muster the courage to confess how much he missed him, and they are finally with the national team and now Kai is _leaving._

Anger had multiplied and nothing, none of his rehearsed, recited phrases had provided an adequate antidote. Kai had disappeared after dinner, wordlessly accepting the reel of congratulations aimed at him from various team members, and he’s now stuffing all his shit into bags next door, ready for it all to replaced with things emblazoned with the fucking Chelsea badge. The thought stabs him directly through the chest, and Julian briefly wonders if it’d be easier if the whole thing just drew blood.

But it doesn’t, he’s instead simply lying on his hotel bed, earphones in and blaring something he isn’t listening to, too pissed off to give a fuck at how childish he’s being.

He doesn’t want Kai to see him. He’d much rather the traitor slipped into his taxi and drove towards the airport without so much as saying goodbye, so Julian doesn’t have to try and pretend like he’s delighted for him for the millionth time. It’s been agony enough already.

Although, agony is par for the course for Julian by now when it comes to Kai. He should be used to it, the keen sting of want, denial, should have long been muted by simple exposure, but he still feels the sharp pricks every time the younger man walks into the room. Kai’s presence provides a brief burst of light before a room is submerged in a deeper darkness than before, and the most annoying thing of all is the fact _Kai has no fucking idea._ Julian wants to scream at him for the audacity sometimes, wants to carve the words into the younger man’s skin until they’re immoveable, engraved there forever as a reminder to him. He is so fucking oblivious to not notice the effect he has on Julian.

Julian refuses to consider the alternative, that Kai actually has every idea, and the move is because of it.

The problem is, Julian’s been in love with Kai for _ages._

By now, with recollections of his mother telling him fairytales before kissing him goodnight nothing more than a faded memory, he knows enough about the world not to believe in such cliche things as love at first sight. Kai wasn’t love at first sight, he was nothing more than a newly-fledged, insanely-talented first team player the first time they met.

Really, Kai crept up on him, and Julian’s spent the last two years wishing he’d cared enough to keep watch over his shoulder.

Now, though, Kai won’t even be there for Julian to watch for. He’ll be off in England, six hundred kilometres away, living the highlife of London, watching the English capital go by and shining under the glimmering lights of the city, lights that never seem to go out, lights that will glow and catch on his eyes and Julian won’t be there to see it, all he’ll have his his lonely reflection rippling in the waters of the river as he walks alone. Calm, removed, pretty but not in the way that makes your heart stop beating like Kai is, and _fuck_ he hates him so much. 

Months ago, he wouldn’t have thought it possible, the surge of loathing that courses through him like venom whenever he thinks of Kai. His best friend was sunshine when Julian was freezing, unwavering support when Julian had wondered if he’d ever be good enough. Last year, they’d been electric for Leverkusen, and then he’d gone to Dortmund with all of Kai’s well-wishes long said; they’d seen each other at least every month, texted each other almost every day. It had been just like normal, save for the eighty miles between them.

That’s what hurts most. It’s the evidence that Kai doesn’t feel the same way about him. Because if he did, he would’ve known how Julian was feeling, would’ve resented him just like the older one is doing right then.

All Kai ever was, was happy for him, and Julian wants to kill himself because of it.

He now understands what people say when they wish others were easier to hate. If he could’ve just hated Kai back then, or even just become less involved with him, it wouldn’t be like this now. He wouldn’t have had the whirlwind friendship, but if he tries hard enough, he can almost force himself to believe it doesn’t matter.

Once he made it as a footballer, he should’ve closed off a section of his heart, should’ve toughened up his defences once Kai was thrust into his life with an invisible pickaxe and beautiful green eyes. But he didn’t, and it’s his fault, but fuck if he’s going to try and pin it on his former best friend.

Julian’s lips are salty from the tears that are still falling. He can’t even pinpoint when they began.

If he could put all the pain on him at once, suffer it for a day and then expel it from his body along with all memories of Kai, the way he’d smile as they’d stumble home from some nightclub Julian doesn’t care enough to remember the name of, the way Julian’s name would sound in the soft huff of his voice, he’d do it in a heartbeat. It might kill him, he might suffocate under the crushing weight of agony, but if it didn’t, he’d never have to feel it again, and that brief torture followed by silent bliss is much more preferable to this, the prolonged pain that’s just going to render him a godforsaken mess at any random time. A mess that Kai could stumble in on at any time.

There’s a lull in his music, and it’s quiet enough that he can make out the knock on his door. Without thinking about how his face is most definitely blotchy, that giveaway tear stains are tracked down his cheeks, he goes to answer it, knowing Leon wanted to play him at table football at some point.

Despite Kai being all he can think about for an embarrassingly large amount of the time, Julian momentarily forgets he exists as he swings the door open.

And, _fuck_ , is Julian completely gone. Kai doesn’t even have to do anything and Julian’s heart is squeezing painfully in his chest, hurt and anger and guilt knotting in his stomach and he’s partly convinced he’s about to throw up on Kai’s travel clothes. Really, there’s no way Kai doesn’t know how Julian feels when he’s acting like this, how he’s already backing away from the door and letting it fall closed in Kai’s face, soon he’ll be gone, Julian won’t have to see him anymore---.

It doesn’t happen like that. Kai never goes out of sight, and when Julian can force his eyes away from the younger man’s face, he realises Kai’s holding the door with his foot.

“Have you been crying?” Kai says finally, something Julian doesn’t have the heart to hope is uncertainty laced in his voice. Whatever amusement he might feel at the dumb question doesn’t show when he responds with an answer that couldn’t be more of a lie if he tried.

Maybe he should have told the truth, he thinks bitterly, when Kai interprets his defense as an invitation to enter.

“Is everything okay?” The younger man tries again, and Julian wants to fucking scream because they were never like this, all disjointed questions and fleeting eye contact, “or rather, do you want to talk about it?”

“Not with you.” It’s unfailingly hostile, and Kai visibly flinches, causing the deranged part of Julian’s mind to crave it a million times over. He wants Kai to feel what he’s feeling, wants Kai to know even a fraction of the torment that’s basically taken him over by now, wants Kai to wonder what it is he’s done and for him to break down when he comes to the inevitable conclusion.

Silence spreads out between them, so tangible Julian watches it spread out into the corner of the room, enveloping the two of them in a musky air of confliction. If he concentrates hard enough, it masks Kai’s face, blurs him out, creating a wall Julian doesn’t want to shatter.

Kai does, but it takes an immeasurable amount of time for him to find the words, and Julian’s so focused on ignoring him the noise makes him jump.

“Please, Jule,” Kai says, pausing slightly and letting Julian glare, “just tell me what’s wrong. I might be able to help you.”

“You don’t have any idea how easy it would be for you to help me,” Julian spits out, before he realises the words were even poised to fire, “but you won’t. You won’t do the one thing that could help me.”

It might seem like the truth, an obvious opening to lead Kai to the fact that Julian doesn’t want him to go with every inch of his body, but it’s just a facade about the deeper feelings Julian has. If Kai would just kiss him now, slide his hand around the small of Julian’s back and just press his lips against him, run his hot breath along every crevice and curve of Julian’s neck, Julian would forgive him for the transfer. If Kai would only murmur a promise of love, Julian could forgive him for _anything._

Except he knows that would never happen, that hope for such a scenario has long been doused with the bleak smear of reality and relegated to merely a fantasy, so lying is the best he can do. Paper over his faults, his weaknesses, and hope to whoever may be listening that Kai has magically lost the ability to read him.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he shoots back, letting his blood flame with rage, “and deep down, you do too.”

“No, I don’t, because you won’t fucking tell me! I’m not a fucking mind-reader, Julian!”

“Yeah, just add that to the list of things you’re not,” Julian snarls, momentarily satiating the gluttonous monster of sadism that’s settled in his stomach as he watches the sentiment settle itself on Kai’s face. It gnaws at him seconds later, he’s burning up with the desire to hurt Kai, to make him regret what he’s doing without forcing Julian to say it explicitly.

It’s horrible, because he knows the characteristics flitting through Kai’s mind will be the complete opposite to his; he knows he’ll have activated the train of insecurities Kai still hasn’t overcome and that’s a much better defence mechanism than his own list, the one essentially lamenting the fact the two of them don’t fall into bed together every night, and the fact that Kai is off limits for that ever becoming a reality.

“Why are you doing this?” Kai says, sounding so weak Julian reflexively looks up at him, and immediately wants to go and throw himself out of the nearest window because there are tears pooling in Kai’s eyes and he’s averting Julian’s gaze, “particularly now? I’m literally about to move to another fucking country and you’re being like this _now_?”

 _I don’t want to_ , Julian wants to blurt out so bad it almost aches, wants to stick the middle finger up at the horrible monster that’s consumed him and pull his best friend into his arms, but he’s rooted to the spot uncomfortably. Instead, all that comes out it,

“I don’t know.”

Kai’s answer comes surprisingly quickly for someone caught in such obvious turmoil,

“And that’s another lie.”

“What, are you counting?” Julian says, before he can think that, yes, Kai probably _is_ , because that’s what Kai does. Even when it was Julian refusing to admit his insecurities, his fears, whatever it was that was bothering, Kai would sit patiently, throwing off whatever technique Julian would use to deflect with quiet murmurings that he knew Julian was lying. 

Fuck, Julian does not deserve him, and the scariest part of all is that he thinks Kai is minutes away from realising it.

“You forget we were once close.”

Again, it’s not fair of Julian for the surge of anger that floods through him; Kai’s merely deploying the same tactics he’s been using since the younger man walked in, but that doesn’t stop him from recoiling in hurt from the implication. Julian’s destroyed what they once had, maybe Kai even wanted to keep it, savour it as a little piece of home when the overwhelming nature of London gets a bit too much sometimes.

He’d tried to ignore the rift forming in his heart, the slight crack starting to run down the length, but it suddenly jerks and sends the first, warning, wave of pain shuddering through him.

“I don’t think I could forget that,” he whispers, not entirely sure if Kai can hear him, and not particularly caring either way. It’s the first honest thing he’s said all day.

“At least that’s something,” Kai says, before turning and striking out at Julian’s wardrobe. The doors fling back, almost hit him straight in the face, and Julian’s almost worried he’s going to have a full on fight with the inanimate object, when his, now former, best friend manages to do something even worse.

Kai collapses on the bed, looking like he’s had all the air sucked out of him in one fell swoop.

“I’ll tell you why I’m doing this,” Julian’s sure his mouth is working separate from his mind by now, but even though he doesn’t want them to be, his words are met by the hazy, tear-bleached glint of Kai’s eyes, poking out from where he’s curled into the fetal position.

Julian’s heart is racing so fast he’s certain Kai can hear it. Maybe his own is matching his.

It’s that thought that does him in. The words fall back to the subconscious of his mind, leaving him standing there isolated, defenceless, with an expectant Kai staring at him. All he can manage is a choked-off sob, and he knows that’s a dangerous precursor to breaking down all over again.

“It’s--,” he trails off, trying to catch his breath and just missing the waves, “it’s just---,”

The anxiety does something to Kai, Julian watches him stiffen on the bed, move so he’s sitting up, and the look in his eyes is something Julian’s never seen directed at him, never wanted to see directed at him. It’s like there’s a beast inhabited inside Kai too, except the younger man has always been better at controlling it.

“Spit it out,” Kai shoots back, almost robotic in the absence of any emotion, “you didn’t have any problem insulting me earlier.”

“That was--,” _different_ , he wants to say, but Kai’s callout has only made it worse. Because, deep down, he knows it wasn’t any different at all. His throat is dry, his lungs straining with the lack of oxygen like Kai’s pulled it all from the room and is leaving him to die, and he can’t even hide the way his entire body feels like it’s going to set on fire.

The epicentre of it all is his heart, which is shattering in slow motion.

It’s like the worst type of disaster, the kind where you don’t want to watch yet you can’t look away, the slow onset of affliction dragging out to prolong the initial breakdown of everything you thought you knew. Kai’s everything Julian thought he knew, yet in the course of a conversation they’ve become people the other doesn’t recognise. Julian’s heart is going to beat itself into oblivion, working overtime until shards prick his insides and he dies of the internal bleeding and he just fucking knows Kai is going to relish it, and really, the younger man doesn’t deserve any less.

If Kai’s someone he doesn’t know, then the least Julian can do is tell him.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Go where?” Kai asks, as if he’s cut out to make Julian say it.

“Chelsea.”

“I didn’t want you to go to Dortmund, but when you left, I supported you. Why can’t you do the same for me?”

Kai’s right, Julian knows it, and he knows his next weapon is the most terrible, selfish thing imaginable, but he loads his weaponry anyway. It might just break Kai’s heart too, so Julian’s not suffering alone, and god, he’d give anything to provide his misery with company.

"I left first, I know that, but you, this decision---," Julian's voice trails off, anger rendering him incapable of speech, "you don't have to go."

"And you're telling me this now, when you've had months?" Kai’s shouting now, Jonas and Toni next door will definitely be able to hear them, but Julian can’t bring himself to care. Not with Kai, set alight and glowing in the fire ignited by his own rage, looking so devastatingly beautiful, standing right in front of him.

“I had to.” Desperation in this context is a new acquaintance, bright and bold and brash, taunting Julian with its mockery, the reminder it poses that the older man is so weak, so hypocritical, that he’s utterly undeserving of Kai. The cracks in his heart have widened to the point of no return, and he’s certain the chasm is going to engulf this moment, the reminders of how awful he is, the vicious snark in Kai’s tone, the vexation poisoning the air between them, and one day, when it sews itself back together, they’ll be trapped there, ready to strike should he ever slip. “I couldn’t let you leave without knowing.”

“I’d have preferred it that way,” Kai sounds so unlike himself, Julian wants to slump to his knees and beg. He doesn’t even know what would come out of his mouth, and neither of them will ever find out, because something he can’t quite place is stopping him.

“So would I,” Julian agrees, “but I couldn’t.”

“Because you’re a selfish cunt.” 

Julian wouldn’t have the right to argue even if he could find the words to. His entire being is preoccupied by the sentiment hanging on his tongue, eyes fixated on his former best friend backing towards the door and he knows that if Kai leaves before he says it, that if the door slams shut between them and their future spans into an abyss of darkness, separated by all those miles, then Kai will never know.

“No, because I’m in love with you.”

Kai stops dead. Briefly, Julian thinks he might have rendered him speechless, a dumbstruck expression painted across the younger man’s face that’s not moving, save for the light periodically catching in his eyes.

The question must be written over Julian’s face, he can see it in the way Kai’s gaze flickers over his face, deciphering him, trying to deduce the motive, and Julian fucking despises him for it. In his dreams, this part had always been filled with passionate declarations of requited love, of indecipherable kisses pressed to every inch of skin, of hands skimming downwards across the vast expanse of their bodies: and the reality feels like a dose of cold water thrown over his head in comparison.

Kai’s hand reaches for the doorknob, and Julian’s sure he’s about to leave without an answer when the younger man’s voice, throaty and anguished, rings out into the ever-growing space between them.

“No, you don’t. Because if you loved me, you wouldn’t do this.”


End file.
